


Where to Drop the Knife

by Tamari



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Rigel Black Series - murkybluematter
Genre: F/M, Heavy Angst, Inspired by The Rigel Black Chronicles, RBC Masquerade 2021, Spoilers, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:41:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28460319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tamari/pseuds/Tamari
Summary: "Maybe she tasted farewell in that final dose of Polyjuice. Maybe she knew, stepping on the Hogwarts Express, that it was the last train."The tournament ends. Harry does not have to be alone.
Relationships: Harriett Potter/Arcturus Rigel Black
Comments: 19
Kudos: 93
Collections: Rigel Black Chronicles Masquerade 2021





	Where to Drop the Knife

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for FF13. Written for the RBC Masquerade 2021.

_It is_

_your life, which is so close_

_to my own that I would not know_

_where to drop the knife of_

_separation. And what does this have to do_

_with love, except_

_everything?_

_-_ Mary Oliver, “OXYGEN”

* * *

She doesn’t have the wing strength to fly all the way to London. She flies above the treetops for a long time, until there is only silence. Her magic is still buzzing under her skin. Still, it’s harder than she expects to shift back to human form and Apparate to Dogwood Lane. 

She stands in the middle of her apartment, its windows all shuttered, starlight seeping through the cracks. The fireplace is empty. She flicks her wrist to light the fire. With numb fingers, she reaches into her pocket and fishes out her mirror.

“Archie?” 

“Harry!” Archie’s face flashes into the mirror at once. He’s Rigel’s twin, but for his false green eyes bright with panic. “Where are you? The feed from the headband cut out after you–"

“I’m in the Alleys, at my apartment,” she interrupts. “Has anyone questioned you? You’ll need to be ready, to tell them–"

“I’m coming. I’ll be there soon.” 

“No, Archie, how are you going to get to an International Floo right away?” 

“Wait there. I’m coming.” His face disappears from the mirror.

She watches the flames in the fireplace for long, endless minutes. If she sits, she’ll never find her feet again.

The fire blazes green, and there is Archie, striding right out. His open arms wrap around her before she can say anything. “Harry,” he says softly. “You’re okay. I’m here.”

When she flew through the air as a bird, everything was distant. She wasn’t Rigel Black anymore. She was nobody. She was far away. Now, in Archie’s arms, it all comes crashing back.

She buries her face in his shoulder. “It was – it’s all over.” 

Tears pour down her face, soaking the fabric of his shirt. This is not the first time she's almost died. Down in the Chamber, she had a basilisk fang and a cold sense of purpose. In the underground prison, in the Forest, she accepted the end. She has come close to breaking apart, many times, but she's never faced the fallout like this. 

On that stage, she revealed the truth. Rigel Black is, has always been, a half-blood. A fraud. And her life is over, even if she manages to avoid Azkaban. She will never set foot in Hogwarts again. She’ll never take another Alchemy lesson, or spend another hour free-brewing with Professor Snape. She will never again laugh and drink in the kitchens with her friends. 

She's lost Pansy and Draco, forever. 

“I know,” Archie says, hand stroking her hair. “I know, love. Are you hurt? Let me see. You're bleeding.”

She shakes her head. “It's nothing. We have to – they’ll be looking for Rigel, and they’ll definitely come to ask you questions at AIM, and–"

“Shh. Not tonight. We’ll activate Plan B in the morning, talk about everything we've done and need to do, but not tonight. You need to rest. It’s a wonder you had enough magic to get here.”

Harry laughs bitterly, wiping at her face. Her hand comes away streaked with blood and tears. “Magic is the only thing I _have_ left.” 

“That’s not true,” Archie says, voice fierce. “You have me. To the ends of the earth. To Azkaban and back, if it comes to that.”

She swallows through the thickness in her throat. “I know. I’m so sorry. I can’t even say. I’m just so sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“The ruse–"

“Fuck the ruse.” She hasn’t seen Archie cry since his mother’s funeral, but his eyes are wet now. “When I saw that Killing Curse hit you, Harry… I had nightmares for months about this tournament. I woke up sweating, thinking about the truth coming to light somehow. Imagining the worst-case scenario. But I saw that green light, and I thought I’d never see you again. Nothing could be the worst case, when you’re alive. You’re _alive_. Everything else – we’ll deal with it as it comes.”

“Sirius.” She closes her eyes against her own tears, coming in another flood. “His hands were all bloody from trying to tear through the wards, trying to get to me – to _you._ When they were going to take my magic. He thought his son was going to die right in front of his eyes. It’s all my fault.” 

His hand tightens in her hair, then relaxes. “Don’t say that. We both agreed to switch. And you didn’t want to be in the tournament, you didn’t ask to be tortured. Dad… Dad will know we’re both safe soon. Even if he never trusts me again, he won't lose me. And neither will you.” 

Harry pulls away to look at him. His face has shifted, giving up the appearance of Rigel Black they so carefully constructed. She's seen only glimpses of Archie’s true face in the past few years, peeks in the mirror when he was back in the Darien Gap. He has grown into the sharp angles of a pureblood: not a trace of the softness that lingered in their Polyjuiced form. She does not know this face. But she does know Archie.

“You should rest.” Archie walks her into the little bedroom. The flowered bedspread is dusty. Harry hasn’t stepped into her apartment since the end of summer. 

The end of summer, when she was thinking of the Quidditch World Cup, the Lower Alleys kids, free dueling, Shaped Imbuing. Maybe she tasted farewell in that final dose of Polyjuice. Maybe she knew, stepping on the Hogwarts Express, that it was the last train. 

Archie pulls the covers free. They lie down together under the cold blanket, Harry on her back, Archie close beside her. The fire feels far away, its light flickering through the doorway from the living room. She cannot close her eyes. Archie’s hands must be itching to heal her bruising face, but neither of them moves to cast a spell. 

“Your friends…” Archie doesn’t finish his sentence.

She answers anyway. “I called in the Malfoys’ Debt. They won't be able to look for me."

“Even Lord and Lady Malfoy?”

Harry nods. She does not want to think about Lucius and Narcissa, when it will lead to thoughts of Riddle. “Did you know that Draco kissed me, earlier this year?” Harry says, instead. “I couldn’t … it could never have worked. You should've seen the look on his face when he found out that I wasn’t you. That he’d fallen in love with a fantasy. Because I was never real.” 

"But you _are_ real." Archie grips her shoulder. "You're here with me, Harry. You’re real. No Polyjuice Potion could change that, no fake name. Your friends loved you because of who you are."

Harry sniffs. "They would never have loved me, not as Harry Potter."

"Then they don't deserve you.” Archie’s expression is steady in the dim light.

Harry doesn’t want to speak of Draco any longer, either. “What about Hermione? What do you think will happen when she knows?”

“She'll be mad. But I know she’ll forgive me. She’s a true friend.”

“Your friend. I thought–”

“Hermione doesn’t feel that way about me.”

“But once she knows the truth, maybe…”

Archie shakes his head. “It wouldn’t make a difference.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.” Archie traces circles on Harry’s shoulder. “Not anymore. I realized when she came back to AIM. A real relationship, it wouldn’t have been fair to her, even if I _weren’t_ pretending to be somebody else. Hermione is beautiful, and smart, and a wonderful friend. But I’d have been always comparing her. She never could have lived up to it.”

“Comparing her?”

Archie's eyes are wistful. “Come on, Harry. How could I ever trust another person the way I trust you? With my secrets. With my self."

“Archie...”

“How could I ever know someone else like I know you, all the way to the core? I would know you anywhere, with any face. I– I thought I saw you die today. I thought I’d died too. How could I go on without you, Harry? Who would I be without you? I don't want to imagine. Not just because we grew up together, not just because of the ruse. You’re my best friend.”

“I’m your family,” she says.

“Of course you are. But not by blood.”

“I thought blood didn’t matter to you.”

Archie winces. “I don’t mean it like that!”

“How do you mean it, then?” she asks.

His hand trails up to cradle the back of her neck. His fingers are cold against her skin, but his gaze makes her feel hot. “You’re not my cousin. Not like Malfoy and Lestrange and Tonks are.”

Harry’s heart hammers in her chest. “Ginny Weasley told me something once, at Sirius’ birthday party. She said she’d never known two people who would do absolutely _anything_ for one another. And I told her she did, now. Because that’s you and me.”

His grey eyes flick down to her mouth. “That’s you and me.” 

She tilts her head in answer to his unspoken question, brushing their noses together. Archie kisses her. He kisses her, and everything falls into place. Even while everything is also falling apart.

Later, when they disentangle from one another, the bedroom is pitch dark. The fire from the living room has smoldered down to embers. Harry lifts a hand to her face. She is crying again, she realizes. But Archie's arms go around her once more, and he holds her, there in the dark, in the last safe place.

“Do you wish someone else was here with you instead?” Archie asks her. “Malfoy? Parkinson?"

“No.” Harry runs a finger down the curve of his jaw. “I loved my friends. I’m going to miss them more than anything else. But it had to be us, here, now. In the end, when everything went wrong, or when everything went right, I always knew it would be us."

She has told Archie Black she loves him a hundred times. A thousand. She could say it again, again: add a new flavor to the familiar words. But she doesn't need to. Archie knows.


End file.
